


Imagine…Dean Waking Up

by SupernaturalWinchester67



Series: Imagines [40]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 20:07:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16839505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupernaturalWinchester67/pseuds/SupernaturalWinchester67





	Imagine…Dean Waking Up

There was something about an early morning in bed that made Dean smile. The way the sun filtered into whatever motel room you were staying in. The way it bounced off your skin. The way your arm would hold him tighter, even when you were deep in sleep. Even when he was the one you were curled into, you were always trying to hold him too.

It was one of the thousand things he didn’t know how to say he loved about you.

He could feel you start to stir, shift around lazily and wrap a few small fingers in his shirt, fisting it as you took a long deep breath.

“Morning,” he said softly, met with only a rhythmic rise and fall of your chest against his. “Not up yet I see.”

He watched for a few minutes, feeling the heat radiate off your body, the steady beat of your heart, tracing the gentle lines of your face. You were so relaxed he didn’t understand how you just _did_ that, felt so normal and not screwed up inside and out.

_You, De._

Dean remembered rolling his eyes the first time you told him he was the one that made you okay again. He remembered that was the first time you didn’t bother to hide the hurt on your face because you’d been vulnerable and he threw it right back. He’d hated himself for weeks for doing that, hated that he’d thought he’d messed up so bad you’d leave him behind.

Then you had to go and comfort _him_ , tell _him_ it was okay and to please stop beating himself up. That was the day he realized his broken self was strong to you. Maybe not perfect and maybe in need of a whole lot of help at times.

But you loved him for all of it. Good and not so good.

“Morning,” you mumbled, nuzzling into his neck, Dean’s fingers absently tracing patterns over your skin. “You tickled me awake again.”

“We should get up soon,” Dean said, even if all you had ahead of you was a long drive back to the bunker.

“Can we stay?” you asked, already halfway back asleep.

“We can stay, sweetheart. As long as you want.”


End file.
